


push start to pause

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Bromance, M/M, Zombies, Zombiestuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-06
Updated: 2011-12-06
Packaged: 2017-10-26 23:40:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/289166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You’d figured out within the first five minutes of killing your first undead that zombie apocalypses were not all that they were cracked up to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	push start to pause

**Author's Note:**

> Zombiestuck is not my AU--go to derperistical@tumblr for that. 8'D

It’s probably not a far off guess that, if he were still around, your older bro would find this whole situation the world finds itself in pretty damn ironic. As it is you kind of have no idea where he is right now. But he’s probably okay.

‘It’ll never happen,’ people had said—you hadn’t really given it much thought either.

You hadn’t given a fucking _zombie apocalypse_ much thought at all.

Luckily you’re pretty handy with a sword and you’ve got a partner to watch your back in the form of one Jake English, who somehow decided to drag his ass off his island to visit you exactly a day before all hell broke loose. You guess you’re pretty lucky like that, because even if it’s completely uncool to admit that kind of thing out loud, you’d probably be digesting in the stomachs of the walking dead right about now if not for his kickass gunhandling.

You’ve saved him several times over, too.

But there are times when he gets this far off look in his eyes, like he’s imagining being back on his rock in the middle of the ocean. It’s probably safe there; zombies can’t swim, and Jake’s lived alone on that island for most of his life. Maybe you’re smothering him. You _are_ pretty much the most human contact he’s had in years.

The only thing that’s wrong with realizing that you should probably give him some space is that you can’t seem to leave the guy alone. He stands up, you stand up. Jake mentions absently that he’s a little hungry, and you’re forking over the last bag of Cheetos you’d managed to snag from that abandoned convenience store yesterday. He cocks his head to the right just a little bit to listen for oncoming hoards of undead, and every muscle in your body is immediately at the ready just in case you need to dart quickly in front of him, even if he doesn’t need protecting in the first place.  

(You know that better than most anyone, now. You’re all he has and he’s all you have.)

It goes without saying that you trust each other a lot.

Neither of you have heard from Jane or Lalonde in a while, but they probably don’t have Jake’s weird rule of always having five or so computers on them at any given time. You don’t like to think about what might have happened to them, and there’s a simple solution to that—you just don’t think about it. They’re likely to be in hiding, like your bro. Jake sort of knows where at least Jane lives, he says, so the two of you have decided to head in that general direction once you’ve stocked up on enough supplies for the trip.

Of course, you’d figured out within the first five minutes of killing your first undead that zombie apocalypses were not all that they were cracked up to be—because sometimes you saw people. You’d never particularly cared about the lady living in the apartment underneath yours and your bro’s, but…

Seeing her running at you through the aisles of a forgotten Walmart (The prices are lower than ever! Ha _, ha_ , Jake.) with the intent of devouring your flesh comes as a bit of a shock.

You only realize that you’ve freezed up when she knocks you painfully down onto the concrete flooring, breathing her sour undead stench all over you and what the hell this lady used to smell like chocolate chip cookies and now she’s _going for your jugular—_

Jake fucking English saves your neck, literally, by hauling the cookie lady off of you and tugging out a pistol from God-knows-where, delivering one clean shot to her head. You kind of have to wonder how he always gets over to you just in the nick of time, but you offer him a grateful nod anyways; a second later you are on your feet again and your trusty sword is running clear through another zombie’s chest before it can launch itself onto your partner’s back. That’s just how you two roll: Jake’s got your back, you’ve got his. He grins his cheesy grin and flashes you a thumbs up.

After scouting around to make sure there are no other monsters lurking just around the corner, Jake stands watch while you snag every box of food you can off of the shelves, stowing what you can carry without it being a burden into the backpack you’ve brought along. Once you’ve finished with that one, Jake swaps his pack with yours and you fill that one too. You’ve got this in the bag. __

_Literally._

You’ve specifically chosen this time because there are usually less zombies around, and your meticulous observation in this area doesn’t fail you since you don’t have any catastrophes or showdowns on the return trip—even if you know that you wouldn’t have to worry anyways because you’ve got Jake and he’s got you.

You get back to your little cave in the woods and hit your sleeping bag like a fucking dead man. Bad analogy, but whatever. It’s Jake’s turn to keep watch over you either way and you trust him not to mess shit up.

“Strider!” is the gleeful shout you jerk awake to later, coupled with someone jostling your shoulder as if it’s a bag of shitty shake-and-bake chicken.

“Didn’t know we were inviting every zombie in this fucking place to our crib tonight, English,” you hear yourself grumble drowsily, “I don’t think all of them got the message, maybe you should yell a little louder. No, really.” You half sit up, groping blindly for your shades.

He only scoffs at your jab, plowing on to convey whatever the hell’s got his panties in a twist: “Lalonde just got online, and she’s with Jane, and they’re both really disconcerted even if they won’t admit it but they’re fine! Do you hear me, Strider?”

Oh, you heard him. You heard him, all right.

And now you’re fighting a huge grin to match his buck-toothed dorky one harder than you’ve fought a few of the zombies out there. Jake makes it even harder by throwing his arms around you and squeezing tight and laughing his silly goofy laugh right in your ear, and it doesn’t matter that you could’ve died yesterday and you could have died today and you could be dead tomorrow. It doesn’t matter. You allow yourself to cling tight in return and damn, he’s warm and he’s practically on top of you but you don’t care, cause holy shit some of your most important people are confirmed alive in this shithole of an apocalypse.

You think maybe it’ll all be okay.


End file.
